ON high Pentecost I found In thys gracious month of Maye, Her to whom my heart is bound In a garden faire a-straye, Pluckynge roses. I did saye "Kyss me." "Gladlye," she reply'd. In thys wise Love hadde hys waye, With a rose on either syde. Since her love me comforted Doubt and fear are driven awaye; Now with Hope I ever tread On that garden of deare claye. Hence her gentle leave and aye Fond desirës that abyde Still as sweet as when we laye With a rose on either syde. Her sweet kyss hath driven oute More of grief than I can saye; All my sorrowe and my doubte Now is soothéd by her swaye. I doe bless the houre and daye Found me thus soe faire a bryde Kissynge in soe kynde a waye, With a rose on either syde. Prince, thys ladye on a daye I did fynde for mate and bryde; There and then I kyssed my faye With a rose on either syde. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ENCHANTMENT by THOMAS OTWAY THE QUIET PILGRIM by EDITH MATILDA THOMAS INVITATION TO A PAINTER: 2 by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM |